Gone to the Dogs

Almost everyone out here in the country owns a dog; there are a total of six in the homes most immediately to our right , left and across the road. Many run loose on occasion and have made their way over to visit and introduce themselves. We know them by name and they no longer bark at us or make strange.


Kale (down the street) Brew (across the street)


Tug (next door)

Tug lives next door but has made our property his second home...at least since Roy bought and started feeding him Milk Bones. We're not sure what breed he is but he is a big and solid fellow about 12 years old with thick, black (and very stinky) fur. He hates bears and can be heard barking almost non-stop throughout the late summer when the plenitude of fish brings them in. He loves to play and will chase sticks and run circles growling and snapping like a crazy dog if he has it and thinks you want it. He often accompanies us on walks and is obedient and well behaved on these occasions.
Like most dogs, Tug is a mooch and will eat just about anything. We had to warn the trades not to leave their lunches within his reach and several learned the hard way as he trotted happily down the road with their sandwich. Tug is also a thief and will take anything; gloves, tools, coffee mugs, ABS pipe, an ear of corn.... then turn back to look and gauge your reaction as he trots away. To chase him, shout, plead or try to outsmart him is in vain. He will return and drop the item in exchange for a Milk Bone though...yes, Tug has learned to manipulate us and every day is a new game on.